Full Circle
by leavinghope
Summary: As it becomes apparent that Sherlock Holmes faked his suicide to save his friends, John Watson and Mary Morstan make decisions about their future together. This work wraps up the series "A Study in Women" . This should also work as a standalone story. I hope you enjoy it!


Mary Morstan was not a worrier by nature, but she was still relieved to hear the front door of the flat open and close. After John Watson left her at the restaurant with one of Mycroft Holmes' assistants, Mary had returned home not knowing when she would see John again. She had tried not to ponder _if_ she'd see him again.

"Don't worry, I'm still awake," she called from their bedroom where she was curled up on the settee with her laptop.

John entered the room with a beer in his hand. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he responded by shaking his head and taking a long pull from the bottle.

Mary made sure that there was enough room for John to sit next to her feet and patted the cushion. He collapsed there, his eyes fixed on the floor.

She closed her laptop and waited for John to speak. She monitored his body language. Tight, coiled, prepared for a fight in a way she hadn't observed in him before.

"Mycroft says that he is alive." John's voice sounded flat and controlled.

Mary placed a hand on John's shoulder. "We knew that was a possibility."

"I know, and Mycroft knows that, too."

She gave him a gentle squeeze. "Tell me everything."

John took another drink of his beer. "The car dropped me off at Baker Street, where Mycroft and Greg were with Mrs. Hudson in her flat. Mycroft said that he had faked his death to save our lives."

Mary nodded. "Just as we suspected."

"Apparently he has been dismantling Moriarty's organization, but one major player is still on the loose."

"Why did Mycroft decide that you all needed to hear this now?"

Playing with the bottle in his hands and not looking up, John replied, "This is Moriarty's successor, a lethal weapon… my assassin."

Mary sucked in a quick breath. Knowing is one thing, but hearing the word spoken aloud is another. "And?" she prompted.

"Sher… he's been struggling with this one for awhile. Mycroft thinks that his faked suicide has been discovered and that he's in danger. Mycroft has asked me to help… bring the situation to its resolution."

John finally looked Mary directly. "You need to understand what he is asking for."

Mary saw the eager gleam in his eye. That's new, she thought, as she said, "Captain Watson, not Doctor Watson."

John smiled faintly. "Yes. And I will do anything, Mary, absolutely anything to bring him home."

Mary felt a slight thrill at the ruthlessness in his tone. "I understand."

"Do you?"

She responded calmly while maintaining eye contact. "Yes."

John sighed, relaxing a little. "You know, this is not how this evening was supposed to go."

Although Mary knew what he meant, she decided to tease him to relieve more of his tension. "Really?" Her innocent tone and fluttering eyelashes were rewarded with a genuine laugh.

"I'd rather intended to give you a meaningful piece of jewelry." John patted one of the pockets of his trousers.

Marriage had never been important to Mary. She did not define herself by her relationship to a man or woman. She understood the impulse, though, to stand before the world and declare a commitment to one's partner. She just thought it was more important to declare that sentiment every day.

"Okay, I'll agree to accept your meaningful piece of jewelry on two conditions." She placed her laptop on the floor and settled into what John called her 'negotiation posture', head tilted high and arms crossed.

"Just name 'em."

"The engagement must last at least one year."

John lifted an eyebrow, so Mary explained her reasoning. "You've just been called up to active duty, so to speak, and my lectureship at Bart's is almost at an end. I haven't even decided if I'll go back to my job in the States or look for something here. The upcoming months will be chaotic, at best."

"Sounds reasonable to me." John shrugged, but Mary knew he was taking her seriously. That was just the nature of their relationship. "And the other condition?"

"Every night during the engagement and subsequent marriage, if it comes to pass, we both have the option to take the ring off. No hard feelings, no questions asked. Every single night."

Confusion came over John's face. Mary loved that adorable expression, with his nose crinkle and furrowed brow, and she reached over to trace his mouth.

"We each came into this relationship not looking for one, John. I love you, and I know you love me. But I also know that you were searching for something that you'd lost when we first met, and you've found some much needed stability with me."

Contrition tinged his voice. "I'm sorry."

Mary fell back against the arm of the settee and smiled. "No, it's nice to feel needed. Nicer than I would have expected, actually. It's just that I must know that you are here and I am here because we want to be, not because of some archaic notion of obligation."

John sighed dramatically. "Some times you are such an American."

"Ha!" Mary exclaimed. "Don't even get me on how backwards we are about marriage in the States." She winked at John. "Oh, and you have to wear a ring, too."

"Why?"

"I'm not the only one who should be wearing a 'taken' sign."

"Okay. A big wedding?"

"Is that important to you, John?"

He shook his head. "Oh, no, the idea of a big wedding never appealed to me."

"Alright, a simple ceremony. And perhaps an engagement party?"

"Yes, that sounds right." He paused and looked searchingly at her. "You won't be disappointed?"

Mary moved the edge of her skirt back and forth where it fell over the edge of the settee. "I love a swirly dress as much as the next girl, but I'm rather past the white lacey strapless nightmares that so many brides wear."

John giggled at the snark in Mary's voice. "It's settled then." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box. He opened it and showed her the simple platinum band nestled in green velvet inside. She held out her left hand and let him slip the ring on her finger. Mary leaned towards him and kissed him.

As so often after they discussed Sherlock, it was a kiss of comfort and affection and nothing more. Mary knew she needed to press John to deal with the emotions of the evening.

"When I said you were searching for something you'd lost, I meant it. No offense."

John jutted his chin out, in that defiant way of his. "None taken."

"And now you have the chance to find it again, without me."

John did not respond to that, but Mary could sense a growing agitation. She carded her fingers through John's hair in an attempt to soothe him. "Hey, sweetie, you know I just want you to deal with your feelings before you're confronted with Sherlock himself."

John shook his head wearily and focused again on the floor. "Please, don't start this."

"Why did so many people think you were a couple?"

"Stop it."

She continued running her fingers through his greying silken hair. "You've never once spoken his name in all the time I've known you."

"Don't go there, Mary."

"Most people wouldn't stop dating for a year when their best friend dies." Mary knew she was pushing too hard, but it had to be done.

"I was trying to exonerate him."

"Is that why you had stopped dating even before Sherlock jumped?"

John pulled away from her and started banging his head against the wall behind him.

"John…" but he interrupted her with an upturned hand. After a few moments of silence broken only by the faint sounds of the city outside the open window, he started speaking in a monotone.

"People thought that my nightmares were about him falling. They were wrong. Wishing I could have stopped him from falling, coming up with the magic words, never having left his side to begin with… those thoughts haunted my days, not my nights."

John paused and folded in on himself, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his feet on the edge of the settee. Mary remained silent, not wanting to interrupt this moment.

"In my dreams, he'd already fallen, and I'd be running to him. When I reached him, he'd still be alive." John was breathing heavily, pain creeping into his voice. "I'd be on the pavement with him, and I'd pull him onto my lap. He'd still be warm, and all I could think was that if I could just keep him warm, he'd survive. So I'd hold him and cling to him, rock him in my arms. I'd press my face into his hair and beg him to stay warm. But no matter how tight I held onto him, I could feel the warmth leave his body."

John raised his head, and Mary was surprised to see tears falling down his face. In all the time she'd known him, he'd never let the tears to flow in front of her. She sometimes wondered if he'd allowed himself to cry at all over Sherlock's death.

He took a stabilizing breath and continued. "I'd wake up feeling so cold and so empty. My arms would feel so, so empty. Like something necessary was missing, like he was always supposed to be there." John looked at his new fiancée and directed a weak smile towards her. "I still have that dream, over and over again."

A dream that was so easily interpreted as signifying a deep, profound love, she thought. "John, you…"

"I'm not naive, and I'm not an idiot, Mary."

Surprised by his directness more than the admission itself, Mary just said, "Wow."

That prompted a chuckle to filter through his next words. "At first, I was in denial that he was really gone, then I was busy with Greg and Sally trying to prove his innocence. When I finally had to face his death and move on, I told myself there was no point dwelling on those dreams or what they might mean."

Mary stroked the back of John's neck. "And now?"

He quickly wiped the tears from his face and rubbed his eyes. "This is Mycroft we're dealing with. He could be telling the truth, or he could be telling me exactly what I want to hear."

"For what purpose?"

John huffed in frustration. "I have no idea, that's the problem. As much as I'd like to think that Mycroft would never involve Mrs. Hudson in a lie, I can't trust him. Maybe I'm helping to end Moriarty's organization, or maybe I'm accidentally triggering an invasion of North Korea. Who the hell knows? I just can't let myself get my hopes up. I can't be certain of anything."

Then John gently cupped Mary's face in his hands. "I can't be certain of anything but you."

Mary turned her head to place soft kisses into each of his palms. "I'll be here when you need me. Even got a ring on my finger to prove it, right?"

Then Mary grabbed John's jaw and locked his gaze with her own. "But you must never use me against Sherlock. If you ever find yourself using me as an excuse to avoid him or your feelings, you must promise me that you'll come home and take this ring off my finger that very same day."

"Mary, I…"

"Promise me, John."

John met her eyes steadily, a serious look on his face. "I promise."

Mary breathed a sigh of relief. "A promise from you is a precious thing, and I know you'll be true to your word. I love you, John, never doubt that. Our life together has been a delightful surprise, and I enjoy being with you." She leaned forward and kissed his lips lightly, to soften her next words. "But I don't need you. I refuse to let this relationship become a trap or a shield for either one of us."

John kissed her on the forehead and nuzzled her nose. "You are an exceptional woman, Doctor Mary Morstan."

"Thank you, Doctor John Watson." She hesitated, and then said, "Speaking of exceptional women, you do realize that Molly must have been involved in faking Sherlock's death."

"Yeah."

"Will you be able to forgive her?"

"If she helped him survive, I'll be able to forgive her anything and everything, for as long as I live."

Mary smirked. "You said _if_ again."

John once again leaned his head back against the wall. "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst?"

"Well, we have been receiving hints that Sherlock is alive for awhile now."

"Let's see." John starting ticking points off on his fingers. "Molly has been looking at me like I was a kicked puppy for years now. That woman returned from her exile to question me about him. Mycroft has been spying on me, feeding info to Mrs. Hudson, and thwarting my attempts to bring Moriarty to justice in the papers." John paused, pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "Because that might have jeopardized his brother's position. Mycroft was protecting him."

Mary ventured, "And you. If Moriarty was real, then maybe you would have had information that could have hurt the organization, right?"

"I cannot fucking believe I might have to be grateful to Mycroft fucking Holmes." John shook his head and took a deep breath. "But at the end of all this, I might really see him again." He looked at Mary, with the brightest, most open and hopeful smile that she had ever seen on his face. She could not help but smile back.

He looked ten years younger, or maybe more correctly, three years younger. Mary's heart beat faster.

"What will you do then?"

John caressed her shoulder, and then stood up. "I'll make sure nobody ever hurts him again, unless it's me." He winked at her before heading to their bathroom.

She watched John walk away. His step was brisk, his shoulders back. Confident, determined, eager to head into danger. As she played with the ring that now encircled her finger, it occurred to Mary that she might have just met John Watson for the first time.


End file.
